


Let It Go

by strawberrykait



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-03
Updated: 2011-11-03
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:57:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberrykait/pseuds/strawberrykait
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don’t have a choice,” he confessed in a whisper, hoping she couldn’t hear, but knowing better.<br/>“You have a choice, Draco. Choose me,” she said. “Choose this.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let It Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amethyst18](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=amethyst18).



> _Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. All fics posted at this community were written entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended._
> 
> Written for the Dramione_Duet Round 3 2011
> 
> I hope that the recipient is happy with what she inspired from me. She asked for angst, heart break, vulnerable!Draco and the song, Iridescent by Linkin Park. I want to thank **jeng** and **mccargi** from the bottom of my heart for betaing for me again! Couldn’t do it without them! ^_^ I take responsibility for any/all mistakes.

Draco Malfoy looked about in disgust and wonder.

Honestly, did the elves never make it down this far? The boat house was dank and dark and smelled like dead fish. He couldn’t imagine a worse location for an after-hours rendezvous.

Actually, on second thought, he could.

Still, he was here now, where she asked him to meet her, yet he was alone. His irritation at the location began to give way to doubt and anger. Was this all a set up? Was she laughing at him as he waited down here for Merlin knew how long, in the cold? He was likely to catch pneumonia or something even more dreadful that he didn’t wish to consider. He glared about the boat house as though it were to blame for it all, scowling at the water as it lapped against the docked dinghy.

Suddenly someone came into view, in silhouette. His guard immediately rose; these were dangerous times, and one should always be cautious. Of course, Draco Malfoy was not known for stalwartness.

It was a toss-up: draw his wand or scream. Draco acted somewhere in between the two. His hand had barely touched his wand nestled in his inner pocket before he heard the shadowy visitor speak.

“I was worried,” she said breathlessly as she emerged from the shadows, a flush on her cheek that had more to do with the cold than the invigorating jaunt down from the castle. Draco stood stock still, staring at Hermione Granger, who was dressed in a dark, heavy winter robe.

“Why?”

She hesitated, offering a small awkward smile but not keeping his gaze. “That you didn’t receive my owl, or that you wouldn’t come; you’d leave off with some excuse,” she explained in a manner that didn’t fully explain anything at all to Draco.

“Yes,” he huffed in irritation. “Obviously, I received your owl. What is it you want?” He waited impatiently, eyeing the witch as she carefully sat down on a crate after wiping the muck away. She looked about for a minute or two, and then conjured a Bluebell flame. Almost immediately, the boat house warmed and Draco was only then aware of how cold he’d been before she arrived.

Suddenly, Granger opened her mouth, surprising him with, “Harry knows what you’re up to, by the way.”

“And what’s that, may I ask?” Draco indignantly sneered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That you’re a Death Eater,” she readily answered, nonchalantly. “And that you’re working on a dastardly plan for Voldemort.”

Her answer was so blunt, so completely offhanded that Draco was actually stunned into silence momentarily. He could believe that Potter suspected him of the truth – he’d even seen the Chosen One following him once – but he couldn’t accept that Potter would allow him to carry on as such if he, indeed, had evidence to back it up. Nor could he accept that Potter would send _her_ down here to parlay with Draco. It wasn’t the hero way.

Draco stared down at Granger, trying to figure everything out but failing miserably, so instead he simply asked for an explanation. She offered one quickly.

“Harry has no idea I’m here, of course.”

He blinked. “Well, I should hope not, Granger, unless you’re ready to end this,” he motioned between the two of them. “But that still doesn’t clarify -”

“I want it to stop,” she blurted out.

Draco looked at her, stunned again. For most of the term, they had been secretly meeting. It was completely accidental, the way it had begun. He’d only meant to frighten her, to vent a little frustration, but it quickly progressed in a manner neither of them could have imagined. And still they would meet, sometimes in an empty classroom, or a cupboard, and once in the Potions classroom. That had been Draco’s favorite. Apparently, this was to be their last encounter, yet he wasn’t ready to be finished with Granger. Not by a long shot. Before he could protest, she continued.

“I know, Draco…what you’re doing in the Room of Requirement.”

His heart lurched in his chest. She wasn’t calling it off after all. It was hard, then, to focus on what she was saying. He stepped towards her with relief. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter, anyhow. Draco tugged on her hands, encouraging her to stand up once more so he could kiss her like he’d wanted to since she first appeared. Granger was determined to have her say, however, and until she was satisfied, there would be no kissing. Or anything else.

“I’m not stupid, Malfoy, and neither are the others. You’re going to be found out,” she whispered, pulling away slightly. He sighed, his hands dropping back to his side.

“What would you have me do, Granger? Hrm?”

“Go to Dumbledore.”

He laughed harshly. She had no idea what she was talking about. Going to anybody, let alone the man he was meant to… well, it just wasn’t an option, and she couldn’t understand that, no matter what she thought she knew. Fear bubbled up inside him. His heart wasn’t in it, in the mission assigned to him by the Dark Lord, and the time spent with Hermione Granger was the most welcome distraction he could have hoped for.

“I understand -”

“No, you don’t!” he yelled, his frustration manifesting. Draco stomped away, back towards the dinghy, his jaw clenching. “You think you know so much, but you know _nothing_ about this, Granger. Nothing.”

“I’m here to help you. I…I care about you, Draco,” she pleaded. Draco squeezed his eyes shut. He really didn’t want to hear this, not from her, not now. “You can’t go through with it. Harry suspects; soon, others will as well. It’s dangerous. You have to let it go.”

“I don’t have a choice,” he confessed in a whisper, hoping she couldn’t hear, but knowing better. Her shoes made hollow taps as she crossed the distance between them before wrapping her arms around his chest, her head resting on his back. Instinctively, he clasped her hands. How was it Granger could always make things look so black and white when actually there were too many murky grays to know the difference? “I don’t want this, not anymore.”

“You have a choice, Draco. Choose me,” she said. “Choose this.”

He turned around in her arms and kissed her, softly. He wanted her ideals for his own, but she was so much poison to everything he’d ever known. How could he shed his skin and start anew? Draco opened his eyes and saw hers were closed. She trusted him, cared for him, and in that moment, he knew he felt the same.

He bent to kiss her mouth, her eyes, her rounded, chilled cheeks, while his hands braced her back. She waited for him, patiently, letting him set the pace. Granger was like that, he’d learned. He found his way back to her mouth and let go. Carefully he maneuvered her back towards the crates. Feeling the rough wood, he broke away long enough to cast a Cushioning Charm. It wasn’t an ideal location, but she had chosen it, and he did his best to make it comfortable. It must have been sufficient, for she pushed him down onto the crates and climbed up next to him on her knees. The angle was off, so he rose up as well and she set back on her heels, letting him take the lead.

His hands roamed down her back slowly, barely allowing just the fingertips to press against her. She moaned into his mouth, inviting him to go further. Draco did. As his tongue gently caressed hers, his hands went wild, clutching and pulling at her robes, desperate to rid her of them. He felt his heart racing in his chest, both excited and frightened by her responses. He tamped down the once voice that always protested, the one that said he was a damn fool for snogging Hermione Granger, that her friends would be so very angry with both of them, not to mention his father’s reaction, if he ever knew.

But another voice told him that this was what it was like to be desired, to be satisfied. To have someone desperately trying to get closer to you than no other person ever had before. This was what real intimacy was like, and he wanted it as much as she did. Draco ignored reason and chose to follow desire.

She rose up on her knees to reach his mouth better, pressing closer to his body. She felt incredible in his arms. A giddy thought burst in his head that he wanted to be inside her very skin. Without realizing it, Granger straddled his thigh, bringing her left knee very close to a delicate part of his body. When her back slouched slightly, he found that his leg was exactly where it ought to be.

Granger moaned again, louder, urging Draco on. Kissing her had been different than he ever expected. True, he hadn’t kissed all that many girls, Pansy being the most frequent, but none of them were like this, as … pliant… as she was. It was unbelievable and he had to see how much better everything would be with Hermione Granger.

He dropped his hands from her back, moving them instead onto her hips, effectively thrusting the robes back. Her arms wound around his neck as they continued to kiss, and that had to change. Draco broke from her mouth long enough to latch onto the cord in her neck, using the angle to finally tug her blasted robes completely off. Beneath she wore the standard girls’ uniform, a white long-sleeved blouse, house tie and pleated skirt. The skirt he thought she should keep on, feeling his cock twitch at the image his mind produced of it hiding where they were joined.

With great urgency, Draco made to reach for her breasts, but slowed at the final second, worried that she’d stop him like she had in the past. Thank Merlin, this time she didn’t. Instead, when he gently cupped her right breast, she moaned again and pushed her chest outward, which was all the invitation he needed. He squeezed one in each hand as he returned to her mouth for kisses broken often by their panting. Her moaning turned into strange noises, almost words, commands, and her fingers flew frantically across his chest, struggling with his tie, then skipping to his shirt buttons, and back again. After a moment, Draco moved his fingers into the cup of her bra to feel her pebbling nipple beneath his fingers. Hermione was grinding now on his thigh, he could feel her damp heat there, and he was desperate for more.

“Wait, wait.”

For a second, he wasn’t sure which of them had said it, then recognized from her expression that it must have been him. Why was he stopping? Oh, there were a million good reasons: her heritage, for starters; his parents’ disapproval, as well as that of her friends; _his_ friends, too, and many other reasons that flashed briefly before his eyes. But brighter than all these reasons not to go on was the one reason urging him to continue, which was Granger herself. He wanted her, and everything else be damned.

“It’s all right,” she whispered, hardly louder than the lapping water within the boat house. At some point, she’d managed to undo both his tie and shirt, which was draped on his arms, exposing his chest to the open air and her penetrating eyes. Mentally, he thanked her for the presence of mind to cast a warming charm, or else this would never do. “This isn’t… I’m not…” She blushed, looking away from his eyes.

 _What am I doing? What am I waiting for?_

Granger was fidgeting. He could tell she needed a moment to collect herself, but it was difficult for him to stop. He wondered if she was doing it deliberately, making him feel foolish and exposed, or if this was her way of rejecting him.

Her fingers toyed with his belt loops, tugging unconsciously. “You smell wonderful,” she whispered, a hint of pumpkin in her breath. Draco inhaled her deeply subconsciously. “Like something musky and warm, and briny.” Her eyes lifted to meet his and he was stunned by her large brown irises, glowing in the scant moonlight. Or perhaps that was just their surroundings.

For an instant, Draco worried about someone finding them down here after hours, in this state. Or worse. Thinking of that, he blushed furiously, his heart rate increased, and he squeezed her bum anxiously. She gasped in response, urging him to continue, yet he remained.

Maybe this was a mistake. He seemed to be making several of those lately. No, it couldn’t be, or else she wouldn’t be here now. She said she cared for him, she wanted him, and Draco was beginning to feel the same.

She was quite lovely, all disheveled, and lips swollen. _I did that_. She barely shifted her knee and he inhaled sharply, his mouth falling open and his eyes shutting tightly. When they opened again, she was smiling.

Her smile was warm and brilliant, and all the further enticement needed. Draco grabbed her shoulders and hugged her tightly, relishing the feel of her lacy bra scratching his sensitive nipples. As they kissed, he made short work of her bra, and she yanked his belt loose. She eased back to pull it off, giving him a short moment to admire her bare breasts. The Bluebell flame cast odd shadows all around them as it floated about, so he couldn’t see them well enough, but his hands made them out perfectly. They were perfect.

Draco laid her back down against the crates slowly, afraid she would protest. Granger didn’t; instead she spread her legs, creating a just enough room for Draco to rest between her thighs. She still wore the skirt, as he hoped, but he reached under to remove her knickers next. She was saying something, but he couldn’t hear over the rush of blood leaving his head.

“What?”

He still didn’t understand, but her pinching and tugging at his slacks got the message across. He rolled off her enough to divest himself of the rest of his clothing, feeling a slight chill that had nothing to do with the winter or the dark water breaking against the small boat. He returned to the cradle of her hips, and they adjusted awkwardly for a moment. Hermione giggled and he stopped, uncertain. She smiled up at him and another little laugh escaped, setting him at ease. Draco couldn’t help but smile back. He kissed the smile away.

There, beside the chilled steel-grey lake, hidden inside the boat house, on the cusp of a new year, they were making love at last.

After several seconds of desperate kissing and groping, Draco wadded her skirt around her waist and reached between her thighs. She was definitely ready for him. He was momentarily distracted by how warm, how wet she was, his fingers slipping between her folds, hearing the difference in her moans and breathing. Raising himself up on one elbow, he stared down into her brown eyes, which were partly closed, and guided himself inside. For a few seconds, he worried that it might be difficult for her, but he slid in easily enough. It was her turn to inhale harshly, and he paused. Her hands scraped at his back, trying to tug him back down to her mouth, but he resisted, hoping to give her enough time to adjust. But she was rather insistent, and used her legs and her hands to bring him down fully onto and into her.

He couldn’t breathe. His face screwed up with tension, but slowly he relaxed into her petting and soothing noises. She was so _warm_ , so perfect. But Granger was too impatient, and her wiggling almost set him off. He told her to stop, to settle, but either she didn’t hear or didn’t want to. She was going to be the death of him if she kept that up for much longer. So instead of fighting it, Draco pulled out slowly and back in again, which was close to what she apparently wanted.

It wasn’t long before they had a good rhythm, Granger giving as much as he gave, and he knew he couldn’t wait much longer. Again, he rose up on one elbow so that his right hand could find just above where they were joined. A small part of him worried she would be disappointed, so he fought against her bunched skirt to touch her _there_ , to please her. Although he couldn’t see it, he could feel where they met, could imagine the sight, which excited him further.

 _Definitely not much longer._ His heart felt like it would burst from his chest and zoom off into the nearby mountains. Something was building within and he thought it might kill him before she reached it, too.

Draco nipped at her gaping mouth, leaning more on his forearm rather than resting his full weight on the girl beneath him. He wasn’t a virgin, but he wasn’t too far removed from being one. In fact, this was only his second time. His first time had been clumsy and hurried, and he came too quickly for her, or so Pansy had said afterwards. Draco didn’t think it was this noisy or slick before, either, and when his fingers touched her just right, she outright moaned, long and loud. Irrationally he worried again they’d be discovered, so he swallowed her moans with kisses.

Granger arched upwards, almost dislodging him entirely. He fell back with a laugh, then kissed her before reaching that spot once more. This time he flicked it gently, then faster, until she was utterly writhing, her legs wrapped around his. Between her fractured murmurings against his neck and his own grunts and moans, Draco felt his balls tightening up. The sensations overwhelmed him and his chest stilled, holding what oxygen it could before huffing it out loudly. He was moving faster now, in and out, and she was keening his name.

Then something must have broken because she groaned, long and deep.

Draco felt her orgasm hit just seconds before he let go, falling down, crushing her beneath his chest while he frantically pumped his hips. One of her hands clutched at his upper arm, while the other tugged harshly on his hair, yanking his head sideways. He could care less. He liked it, wanted it, wanted everything she was willing to give him.

Too soon, he was coming down from his high, his hips settling permanently into hers, and her hands began to caress him. Through her breast, he could feel her heart racing, just like his.

He couldn’t move, utterly spent and unable to even lift off her enough to look down at her properly. And her hands were soft and gentle against his skin, soothing, almost loving. Languidly he began kissing her neck, tasting salt there. His chest ached with exertion and the pounding of his heart, but it felt good, felt right.

Draco felt himself soften inside her, then slipped out and immediately missed her warmth. He stayed pressed against her, not ready to leave her, to stop feeling her slick skin melted against his, her gentle hands on his back and arms, and definitely not wanting to leave her mouth, which he continued to kiss. They settled together, both trying to catch their breath, and she was speaking again, which he found quite funny in that particular moment. That was until he could make out what she was saying.

“Just let it go, Draco. I’m here. I’m on your side. Let it go. Let it go.” It was the first time he thought it was truly possible.

 

“Just let it go, Malfoy,” she whispered as she tentatively patted his back. He was hunched forward, clutching himself, rocking slightly and muttering under his breath. She wasn’t entirely sure she understood what he was saying, something about being sorry and her name, and something about being cold. She left him to cross the small room, retrieving a soft, gray blanket from his bed and draped it over his shoulders, tucking it around him the best she could as he continued to rock.

Honestly, she didn’t know what to do for him anymore. Her friends said this was pointless, that he wasn’t even aware she visited him every week, and the healers in St. Mungo’s Spell Damage ward agreed with them. There was no hope for Draco Malfoy. But she couldn’t help it. She believed he was still in there, somewhere, that he wasn’t a lost cause.

The horrible things he did when they were teenagers, before and during the Second War had led him to this, and now he couldn’t be held accountable, not after what he did to himself. He had been deemed criminally insane, and she counted that as fortunate, for surely he would have been Kissed, like his father. Hermione could only imagine the unspeakable things he witnessed, the horrifying things he might have done, that attempting to _Obliviate_ himself would seem reasonable.

She couldn’t explain to anyone why she was compelled to help him; couldn’t even explain it to herself.

“Sometimes forgiveness is all we have,” she said whenever they asked, but mostly she said it for herself. “When you let it go, that’s all that remains.”

Malfoy stopped rocking and looked up at her with such clarity that her heart lurched into her throat. His chapped lips opened, as though readying to speak. She leaned forward, waiting, hoping. Hoarse from disuse, his voice was barely audible. What she could make out sounded like, “I choose this.”

Her heart ached for the sad man before her, who everyone had given up on, who had no one left on his side. The logical voice within her insisted that he was truly gone, to go home to her husband and family and forget all about Draco Malfoy. But Hermione always had a soft spot for the helpless creatures. He held her gaze for only a few seconds and then he was gone again, rocking and muttering.

Tears ran down her cheeks silently as she continued to pat his back. “That’s it, Malfoy, let it go. Just let it go.”


End file.
